Mr. Ironman

So back when I was neglecting my blogging duties, I hooked up with Mr. Ironman for the first time. Mr. Cocky had just sauntered back into my life and I was feeling confused and vulnerable. I had spoken with Mr. Ironman, a classmate of mine, a few times before and knew he was going to be out at good ol’ G &T for our post-Q2 finals partay. I told a good friend of mine that I had it in mind to make out with him that night. He walked into G & T wearing a hideous Christmas-themed vest over a tank top with a tie; apparently he had just come from an ugly Christmas sweater party. This did not deter me. We were like magnets, together the whole night…chatting, flirting, taking shots. The girl he has been hooking up with in our class was awkwardly hanging out beside us, vying for his attention. Who did she think she was dealing with? Mr. Ironman was mine that night. At one point I looked right at him (drunkenly) and casually asked, “You wanna come home with me tonight?” He did. So home we went.
Our night of passion resulted in a broken lamp in my bedroom and half a can of beer spilled in my leather bag. It was fun. No sex though. He left later that morning but I realized we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Oh well. I didn’t think much about it over break. I was far too concerned with my revived pseudo-relationship with Mr. Cocky.
When I came back last week, I found Mr. Ironman in one of my Pathology small groups. I was happy to see him, but not overly excited. We chatted briefly before the ER attending began. After class, I was walking home with the iPod on full blast listening to M83 when I noticed him slide up next to me while I was waiting to cross the street. We walked back up to Glover Park together, along with a few other dudes who live up this way. Still, I didn’t think much of our night of passion.
Things changed the next evening. I got texts from several of my dude friends telling me to come to their house party. I had a few drinks, put on a dress, and headed over. One of the first people I saw was Mr. Ironman’s roommate. He immediately said to me, “Hey, Mr. Ironman is here…you should go say hi.” Ahhh, so he’s been talking about me, eh? Interesting. I did go say hi. We started talking and at one point we were side-by-side, sitting on the edge of a table, and his hand slid behind my back to find my hand. The drunker I got, the more I wanted to take him home.
Meanwhile, a few of my dude friends, all of who were quite inebriated, were starting to get inappropriate with me. I have no problem talking about sex, joking about sex, flirting, yada yada. But when one of them grabbed my left breast, I told him, “Too far.” It was worse when he slid his hand up the back of my dress later on. We all piled into a cab to go to the bar at which our welcome back to school party was being held. I, on Mr. Ironman’s lap, continued to be verbally harassed by my drunken male friends. Mr. Ironman held my hand and jumped in when necessary. I talk a tough game, but by the time we reached the bar, I was visibly upset. I couldn’t understand why men, correction, boys, whom I considered friends would treat me the way they were treating me…so disrespectful. They walked in the bar ahead of us as Mr. Ironman tried to console me. He said, “Come here,” and kissed me very sweetly before we walked in.
At the bar, to make a long story short, we made-out hardcore in front of our entire class… like middle of the dance floor. After a while, we decided to go back to his place. We caught a cab and did just that. We had some drunken sex, which was not too shabbs as far as drunken sex goes, and passed out. I should mention that his body is nothing short of phenomenal.
As we slowly woke up the next morning, we had our first prolonged sober conversation. I liked talking to him. He offered to make me breakfast, drive me home, but I opted to just walk home as a certain roommate was definitely home and needed an update. I smiled to myself as I walked home and realized I actually liked him.
He texted me later that night, and again the next day. I got up the nerve to say, “Soooo this may be presumptuous of me, but would you like to hang out some time?” He said, “I definitely want to hang out some time.” I squealed with delight.
We have tentative plans for later this week. I have butterflies. This feels good.